


Sangria Wine

by magicalsalamander



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, CEO, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Horror, Light Angst, Medical, Medical Procedures, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Alternating, POV Female Character, POV Original Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Slight horror, Supernatural Elements, Thriller, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr, Vampire Bites, Vampire!Yoongi, Yoongi vampire, explicit content, mate, soulmate, suga - Freeform, vampire, vampire!Suga, y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 19:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalsalamander/pseuds/magicalsalamander
Summary: When rent is cutting short and you’re at your last resort. Your job has been cutting your hours slowly, and bills were stacking up. You walk into a donation center, blood donating center for the undead to earn some quick cash, but…the thing is…you’re afraid of needles.





	Sangria Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!

The nurse takes the ear pieces of her stethoscope out of her ears and tilts her head, “Your blood pressure is still high.”

You shy away from her look of concern, this is embarrassing. After waiting ten minutes for it to go down, the results are still the same. It won’t go down from a static 140/80, you know that, “Doctor offices just make me nervous, I’m fine.”

She hums and writes down a note on your chart. Finally she puts two and two together, “White Coat Syndrome,” clicking her pen on her clipboard, “it’s when patients, much like yourself, are anxious because of the people walking around in white coats.”

You halfheartedly chuckle, “Yeah, haha, that’s the one.” You hear it every time you come in to a doctor’s office. You tried explaining it to her earlier, but she put her stethoscope in her ears instead determined it was just a mechanical error.

The hypertension is never because of the doctors, but the needles—bloodwork specifically. Your mind and body are disconnected. You know it isn’t a big deal, it’s a split-second ordeal, boom, bam, done! It’s not even that painful, it’s a mere pinch at most, but for as long as you could remember you’ve had this issue. Although the fainting didn’t start until your teen years, mostly because the nurses offering you candy wasn’t enough to distract you anymore. You even know the symptoms of an oncoming episode by heart now: hearing dulls to a high pitch ring, sudden rise in body temperature, blurry vision then timber you’re out like a light!

Even though you’re aware of the rational side of it, the anxiety is still there.

Your hands feel clammy, as you repeat the words to yourself with a sigh: White Coat Syndrome.

This is your first time at this clinic, so they don’t have that special, little note on record. Which ironically is a good thing, you couldn’t be honest with her and tell her it was because of the needles that perturb you…and that you are likely to faint. You need to be here today.

The nurse wraps her stethoscope around her neck, “Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, everything checks out. I’m going to ready a room and I’ll be back in a moment your receiver should be here soon.”

You nod and she is gone with a click of the door. “He should be here soon,” those words echo in the back of your mind. You busy your mind on something else by reading the posters around the room. They are typical ones the importance of getting the annual flu shot, hygiene and information on human diseases that can affect vampires and other supernatural. You let out a heavy sigh as you read over them three then four times for the sake of not driving yourself crazy. It occurs to you that not only do humans have a huge effect on the environment, but now we’ve effected supernatural beings. Way to go humans.

Three knocks on the door interrupts your reading and the nurse peeks back in, “Are you ready Ms. Y/L/N?”

You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans and slip off the examination table. You stand still for a few seconds to stabilize your feet. You grab your coat and squeeze it as you respond through a fake smile, “Ready.”

Your feet were leading you down the endless white hallways instead of your overactive mind. The mild ringing in your ears were dulling the noises around you, so you follow the nurse like a lost puppy. Suspiciously this place smells overtly sterile, even to your non-supernatural nose. It’s probably because of all the…blood. You hold your coat tighter to you, “Shut your mind off, shut it off, positive thoughts only.” You could already feel your face flushing from the self-induced anxiety. You keep repeating to yourself like a mantra, “It’s going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen, why do you do this to yourself? You know you’re going to be alright.”

You don’t realize you’ve made it to the phlebotomy ward until the nurse you are following opens a room for you. You thank her, and walk into the room rapidly. You take in the new, small room and it was far from what you were expecting. It’s nice…it lacks the same clinical posters from the checkup room and instead it’s replaced with minimal décor. It still smells very sterile though. The nurse speaks from the doorway, “Your receiver will be with you shortly and when the session is over I will come back to check up on you before you leave.”

She closes the door behind her with an eerie click. You heavily sigh as you slump into the first seat you see when your legs give out. Your head is chaotically buzzing, and your heart is beating so hard you could feel your pulse drumming in your ears. This was probably a bad idea—this is a bad idea. You shook your head clearing your thoughts again, no, this was a good idea. You could do this. You could do this! You straighten yourself out and sit near the edge of the seat, tuck your feet together and set your spine rigid. If your receiver will come in here any minute you need to be a bit more put together. If you put it out in the universe it will come true kind of mindset.

The supernatural are apart of normal society, they live amongst humans. They work, live and function alongside humans. You’ve never been nervous about vampires, or any supernatural being, but today those fangs hold a different emotion.

You breathe in slowly and deeply to make sure you are still breathing. If you aren’t actively thinking about it you would probably be turning blue by now. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Inha—three, soft knocks rasped against the door. If I hadn’t been so hyperaware of my breathing I probably wouldn’t have caught it. I jump in my seat then stutter out, “C-C-Come in.” Wonderful, just a wonderful first impression.

A tall, lean figure slips into the room with his back turned to me with his head down. He is dressed professionally with a navy-blue button down and black slacks. Your eye follows his silhouette to his hand strangling the handle of his brown leather briefcase. His briefcase isn’t fully close and a few documents are sticking out of it front pockets. Is the vampire nervous or just…really hungry?

When he turns around, lifting his head, his expression is stoic, lips thin like a line giving away no hint of reaction. You hold your breath when he flicks his half-lidded eyes up meeting yours. His deep, brown predatorial eyes watch yours, observing you from head to toe. It is as if he is waiting for you to break contact first. You feel your saliva thicken in the back of your throat as you struggle to say a greeting. Never before had the mere presence of someone take your breath away. His dark eyes convey his prowess as a vampire, establishing his role in this transaction right away. His naturally dominant aura penetrates the room replacing the ethanol out until all you could smell is his earthen cologne.

Even though you feel insecure under his gaze, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes lock with his. There is an unexplainable pull that keeps you in those two orb’s gravities. He is very attractive to say the least. You swallow hard. Did he have to be good looking? It made your phobia infinity more embarrassing. He had a face that would haunt your dreams and nightmares.

Your eyes broke contact when he watched my throat bob and he knew I had swallowed. I turned away from his gaze and tried wiping away at the blush staining my cheeks.

Just your luck.

After four hundred years you would think he’d learn his lesson by now. He should have perfected the way to living, however, he always forgets that there’s a chaotic variable that ruins perfection: humans. They’re creatures that put too many factors into the pot and it spoils the broth. Things should be simple, but they never are. Things always ends up being troublesome on his part.

He’s spent the last few weeks stowed away in the boardrooms and his office working on a big project. Today, he closed the deal with the international broker and will start importing overseas. Everyone wanted to celebrate the billion dollar deal but he ditched the investors and other executives in order to make this appointment. He didn’t care if ditching them only deepened the rumors about him, he owns the company. He knew his reputation, he even knew the vicious nickname the employees whispered. They called him the red shadow. He was infamously known to be cold, calculated, and a perfectionist. When the red shadow walked to and from meeting rooms, the employees would stop what they’re doing and tremble in fright. Not always literally, but he’d hear it in their frantic heartbeat or the sudden pungent smell of ammonia from stress. They worried that they were going to be scrutinized or that they would be the next on his list. His eyes would hauntingly burn crimson when he was stressed. Despite supernaturals being amongst the normal, prejudice still ran deep. A vampire’s reputation ran deep and was naturally synonyms with fear itself.

In the past two weeks he had reaped the nickname dry. He hadn’t feed properly, and the iron pills weren’t keeping the hunger at bay for more than a few hours at a time. Synthetic Blood bags wasn’t able to truly fill that want for fresh blood either. Normally he liked to feed from a live source every two week, but that didn’t fit his schedule.

As soon as he knew the deal was closing, he made his secretary set up an appointment at the clinic for today. He couldn’t have felt more relieved when he got confirmation email a few days ago, and it’s been the only thing he’s looking forward to. He could’ve brought a donator to his office, but he doesn’t eat and work in the same room and well…it was against the law. Congress forty years ago drew up legislation for stricter guidelines on blood donating and receiving. This was all because too many individuals were found dead as a result of careless feeding. This also forced the supernatural to come to light from the underground. Under the law he was required to feed at a clinic or contract a donator through the government. Humans, he mentally scoffs. The idea of contracting someone revolted him. Although his clients were never usually unpleasant, but something was always off with their scents, too talkative, or just…creepy. He’s never wanted to rely on anyone for anything, especially concerning sustaining his life.

He walks up to the front desk and signs in and takes the typical swab test from the nurse. He swabs the inside of his cheeks quickly and tucked the swab back in its sanitary wrap it came in. He hands it back to the lab tech waiting behind the receptionist. His head is pounding furiously. He runs his free hand through his hair trying to feel for a source. It isn’t painful, but an annoying hard and fast thrumming…almost like a heartbeat.

He is brought back to his senses when the receptionist sweetly smiles at him, “Thank you Mr. Min, please wait a moment and we will begin shortly.” He harshly blinks and picks up his blazer and briefcase finding a seat in the empty waiting room without further word. He deduces that it isn’t another supernatural creature influencing him. Why is his head pounding then? He sits back in his chair and laces his hands together in his lap and takes a deep breath. He rolls his neck as he lets the feeling take over.

Throb, throb, throb, throb.

In the silence of the waiting room he hears it. It’s faint but it’s there. He tunes into the erratic heartbeat that’s somewhere in this building. He holds his breath for a moment to see if the delicious rate matches up with his pounding head.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

He groans under his breath and licks his lips. The animalistic side to his supernatural tendency is creeping up his throat. He’s never felt so connected to a heartbeat before. His body feels like its crawling with jitters for not seeking it out. His leg begins shaking, he slaps a hand on his tight forcing it to stop fidgeting. He suppresses his instincts to follow the pulse to its owner with all his might. The walls are well insulated for the sake of privacy, but he could feel it so viscerally.

He is about to groan under his breath again when he heard his name being called. He takes a deep breath in and lets his expression fall neutral again, except the bags under his eyes gave away that he is a starved man. He gets up as calmly and follows the petite woman who has similar bags under her eyes as much as she tries smiling through it. That’s what happens naturally when humans force switches their biological clock to nocturnal. “Hello, Mr. Min, please follow me over to the oral cleaning station.”

He follows routine, but as he is cleaning his teeth with the sanitation elixir he feels the pulse beating in harshly his fingertips. He nearly spits out his mouth wash as he feels his fingertips tingle like when they go numb, but you try using them again. The thrumming of energy in his veins makes him lowly moan but he wills it away as by gargling the disgusting mouth wash.

He is clean, but he knows this procedure is also a part of the new act. Human to vampire disease is on the rise, but so is vampire to human. Today following routine is agitating him. He wants to feed, no needs, so that he wasn’t hyperaware of a heartbeat. In order to save his pride he concludes that he is just aware of it because he is starved. He was stuck in the office so long that he must be hallucinating. His senses were overreacting because all he’s had was fake plasma and he wants the organic supply. He is in control, not the salacious pulse. He knows himself better.

He spit out the mouthwash into the sink with disgust and rinses his mouth out with water fast. He wants this done and over with as soon as possible. Sleep, sleep would do him so well after this.

“Follow me Mr. Min, your donor is waiting for you,” he grunts then follows the nurse down the familiar hall to one of the many donating room. The white walls he had seen for years now feels unfamiliar, just as new as the sensation running through his veins. It irked his ego that this is throwing off every one of his senses. He isn’t sure he is following the nurse or his instincts anymore. He unexpectedly groans when he feels a strong beat in his own chest. The nurse turns around with an eyebrow raised. He finishes that groan off with a cough, bring a hand up to his mouth to conceal it politely. The nurse smirks thinking the insinuation is for her. He rolls his eyes as she turns back around.

They walk past rooms and the harder the pulse feels in his veins, chest, and fingers. Its engulfed him and its all he can feel. The nurse stands outside a door and slips a chart into the folder. He stares at the door because itself seemed to pulse. He knows whomever the owner is of the bothersome heartbeat is inside this room. The nurse knocks softly and she steps back, “You have fifteen minutes Mr. Min.” He didn’t respond to her and she tried waving a hand in front of his face, but he didn’t blink or acknowledge her. She takes it as he understood and leaves. He grabs the handle and depresses it when he heard a response, “C-Come in.”

The being behind this door was supernatural he was sure of it, only a voice so enchanting voice could belong to a siren. Why else would he feel such a pull? He pushes the door open like any sailor would. When the door cracks open just an inch, the sweet scent from the room floods into the hallway. His eyes fall hooded as the sweet scent fill his frozen lungs. It put him in a catatonic state that fully wakes his instinctual half. It’s oddly addictive yet bothersome to his core. He isn’t weak to his instincts. He wasn’t.

He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He slowly looks up from the ground and finally gets a look at the siren. He clenches his jaw as his whole body pulses like an earthquake as you make eye contact. The source of the erratic heartbeat is seated in front of him.

You aren’t a siren…but a human. Human. You’re beautiful like a siren though, but you’re trembling like a leaf. He knows he shouldn’t feel primal about a simple donation, but you are like a frightened bunny under the watchful gaze of a hungry wolf. Yet, he wasn’t one of those dogs, he was a prideful vampire.

His earlier irritation mellows out when he senses your distress. The way your eyes are glossy make him choke back, honestly, he can’t help how endearing you are. His starvation subsides and all he wants to do is take me into his arms and rest the tremors. He wants to feel that heartbeat against his chest.

He shouldn’t do that though, this is a simple transaction. He is a receiver you are a donor. He rolls his neck trying to bring himself back to neutral, he isn’t himself today.

He takes in a deep breath that was unnecessary since he doesn’t breathe. He practically glides over to the seat across from you and sits down gracefully. He cautiously takes your hands away from my cheeks. His touch is gentle and…icy cold, his hands are so cold. You didn’t realize you raised your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool yourself down. His touch is the instant relief your burning body is looking for.

It’s electrical, he squeezes your hand feeling the shock light up his nerves. It felt like being jolted by a defibrillator. You were so warm. Warmth, it’s amazing, he hasn’t felt warmth for a very long time, it’s always a numb feeling whenever he touches anyone. Four hundred years is a long time to miss something. He gets a new wave of your scent as your breath hitches in your throat. You must’ve felt it as well. He closes his eyes for a moment holding back the red threatening to heavily bleed into his eyes. He didn’t want to scare away the bunny.

He peels his eyes open slowly, but he didn’t realize he is only inches away from your face. You didn’t move away from him though or back down like he expects. Your eyes are staring directly into his pitch-black feline like eyes and he can’t tear his eyes away from the intense gaze. The dilation then contraction of your pupils signal that you were searching for something in his. What is going on?

His voice comes out low and soft, almost like a breathy whisper, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He offers me a soft smile and it feels like a different person is in front of you. The stoic individual can actually be…warm. His harsh features suddenly feel more inviting and you can believe his words. You gulp and lick your lips, finally greeted him, “Hello.”

His eyes follow the movement and cracks a bigger smile; his duality takes you back yet again. He whips his eyes back up meeting yours. He releases your hand, all be it reluctantly, but he knows to keep to himself for the sake of professionalism. But God, does it feel almost painful to let go. He is never like this, he’s never felt the need to be close to someone. He needs to keep it together. Why is a mere human having this much of an effect over him? He links his fingers together to keep the urge from holding your hand again, “Hello.”

You feel the need to disclose, “It’s-It’s my first time…doing this.”

He smirks. God, so endearing, “I could tell.”

You want to whine to physically dispel the cringing embarrassment. You had forgotten that they could hear your heart beat and you’re sure much more. Could he smell your sweat too? What else could he sense! Jesus, you’re a mess and nothing has even happened yet.

He licks his lips, he is having a hard time not focusing on the pulse in my neck. It’s like the beckoning call of a mistress at the door of a brothel in the red-light district. And that scent! That sweet scent of fruits with a hint of acidity from stress is drowning him, it’s like fresh sangria wine. Sangria. Sangre. He off handedly wonders if your lips taste like a mix of the two from the way you are biting down on your lower lip hard enough to bleed. He grunts down a groan that was arising in his throat. This siren.

“What’s your name?” He asks in a husky voice, a byproduct from suppressing his noises. He needs to change the subject and loosen the tension in the atmosphere.

You look up, “Y/n, and you?”

“Yoongi, it’s nice to meet you Y/N.” He tests your name on his tongue and it rolls off salaciously. He offers a hand, breaking his self-promise giving him an excuse to touch you again under the disguise of politeness. You took it willingly. He feels how sweaty your hand had become and then he notices a single tear of sweat dripping down your temple. Were you nervous? Was he scaring you that bad? Its kind of expected for a first timer to be nervous, but sweating? He mulls over it for a second, of course you’d be afraid of him, everyone was, he is a vampire. The red shadow.

However, he didn’t want you to be though. It makes the phantom heartbeat in his chest skip a beat at the thought of you disliking him. The rejection hit him viscerally. He didn’t even know you, yet it really matters. He would never hurt the bunny.

He decides to keep the short conversation going. He never usually offers his donors a bit of conversation prior to a transaction, afterall, they’re a meal. This is business, but here he is breaking his own rules for you. “So, Y/N, what brought you here?”

You pull your hands away this time and squint when you believe you hear a whine from Yoongi. You answer honestly, “Work…has been cutting hours and I need the money to make ends meet.”

He raises a brow, a bit surprised at the honesty. A lot of the clients that come in are here for the gimmick or to satisfy some sort of fetish they have. It doesn’t bother Yoongi, as long as he feed at the end of the day he really didn’t care.

He keeps with his curiosity, “Where do you work?”

You habitually lick your chapping lips tasting the minimal Chapstick left, “MYG Technological Corps.”

He licks his lips as you did, he didn’t realize he was copying your demeanor. When he hears the name of the company his eyebrows raise, that was his company. How had he not known about you? Did you know that he was the owner? Was that why you were so shy and nervous?

He fishes for answers nonchalantly, “Really? What kind of work do you do?”

“Marketing,” you relax a bit in your chair. You find yourself rambling, “I enjoy working there. I’ve just started working about two months ago, so I didn’t know much, but it’s a great place. Except…my team manager, he is…a bit of a fuck up. He piles work on everyone else and when he got reprimand for it by his superior he fires people in rage only to realize his mistake when the persons are gone. Then we, meaning me and two other people, have to take on triple the work. “

He’d been gone these past two months on an international business trip to survey the factories that would be dealing with his products. As soon as his flight landed two weeks ago he locked himself in his office, the twentieth floor and top floor. The marketing department was on the third floor; no wonder he never sensed my presence before. Even though he has never sensed me directly, but maybe…that’s why he was more agitated at work. Why he was more sensitive, and why the pills and synthetic blood weren’t working because you were nearby but never near enough to feel that wild pulse.

You heavily sigh realizing you didn’t breathe during that whole venting. “Sorry to vent, you’re just wearing business type of wear, so I assumed you’d relate.”

Ah, so you didn’t know who he was.

He nods in understanding, a bitter smile lifting his lips, “I do, I do understand.” He crosses his legs to hide the fact that anger is boiling in his gut. Someone is working in his company, representing his name and is treating employees, you, like that. He thrums his nails against the arm of his chair as he pictured different ways to punish that manager. The thought of someone mistreating you made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He let his black eyes dye burgundy not caring to conceal it any longer. Maybe next time he feeds it’ll be ruthlessly from that guy.

He ask, squeezing the arm of the chair digging his nails into the plastic, “Then why here of all places, couldn’t you take up another part time?” Why would you let someone feed off you…someone that wasn’t him?

You took in his nails and a hint of interest filtered through your veins. He easily could sink those nails into you, easily sink his fangs into you no problem. Your strength will never compare to his, even a flick of his wrist is surely impressive. Every time he smiles his knifelike canines’ peek through, but they didn’t seem as daunting as a needle because of the being it was attached to. Even the red in his eyes…made me feel safe in his presence. Maybe this time around you won’t faint.

You tilt your head while staring at your clasped hands, “I could have found a job somewhere, but if I took up another job on my already overworked and underpaid budget, would there be a different?” You unclasp your hands, ”I would be doing it all over at some other place. I wouldn’t have time to sleep, eat or let alone breathe if I did. This,” you casually point between the both of you, “lets me do the part time gig but I get all that work done at once and I get free orange juice.”

You slightly laugh, but no humor was behind it. You fiddle with your hangnail on your thumb. You press down on the piece hoping for it to mend by magic, but it just acutely hurt. No matter how comfortable he makes you feel, the pain reminds you that this is very real. You are sitting in front of a vampire, a stranger, and you were here to donate your blood to him in return for a few hundred dollars.

You are here to challenge yourself, “Also…I’m challenging myself.” You whisper out, “I hate needles. I usually pass out when I get my blood drawn. I’m healthy, but it’s just this weird psychological thing that I have to get over. I want to overcome it and getting paid in the meanwhile kills two birds with one stone. I think that the ‘needle’ being a person instead of sharp metal of piece will help me overcome the fear.”

He laughs, fangs on full display, “So I’m just a talking needle?”

You laugh along with him, although not with the same degree of delight, “I didn’t mean to offend, it just makes it easier to think that way.” You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans again, but it doesn’t seem to clear the moisture.

The nurse knocks on the door and comes in, she bats her eyelashes at Yoongi, “Have you taken the donation yet Mr. Min?”

You feel your fingers beginning to tremble as you picture his fangs puncturing your neck or wrist. I feel the phantom stab and picture blood gushing out into his mouth. Your brutal and sick imaginations continue on in your childish imagination. The edges of your eyes dampen along with the onset feeling stomach cramps from the sudden nausea.

It’s just a pinch. It’ just a pinch, why were you making this a big deal?

He shakes his head, a bit perturbed that his time with you is being disturbed, “Give us more time.”

She looks at him with a simpering smile and looks at her watch, “I can give you twenty more minutes since you’re the last patients for the night.” Yoongi nods curtly and she steps back out of the room.

He turns and looks back to you. He hears it first, the furious heartbeat, then notices your closed off body language. In a split second when he wasn’t looking, you are back to where you had started. You are picking at your nail, but your eyes are glazed over, lost in your thoughts. He stands up then crouches down in front of you so he could get your full attention. He puts both hands on each side of your chair’s arm rest, forget boundaries he needs to be by your side. “Hey, hey, Y/n, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel comfortable. Y/n? Y/n? Can you hear me?”

The delusions fade as his voice cuts through your thoughts when you hear your name. Your eyes shot up and look directly in his red eyes. You want to do this, no, that’s not true, you need to do this. You need the extra hundred dollars to make rent. You need to do this!

“I know.” You blink away the tears, clear your throat and lift a shaky hand to brush your loose hair away from your shoulder. With pseudoconfidence you expose the unmarred flesh of your neck to Yoongi and tilt your head to the side, “…but let’s do this.” Your hands were shaking as you lower them down waiting patiently for him to act.

“Y/n, we don’t…,” he whispers your name, but he couldn’t help stare at the pulse under your flesh. He could feel the bags under his eyes lifting. In hindsight he know this may be a wrong idea, but he didn’t want to push you away. You were being brave, and he wanted to respect that. He could smell the fear and anxiety tainting your sweet scent, spoiling the sangre wine. It’s been hard to control himself so far, but miraculously he repressed the monster within. He wants a taste of your sweetness. He needs to answer that pull he feels towards you.

He gets up and moves you to the couch, so you are more comfortable. You readjust yourself and offer your neck again without meeting his eyes.

It’s just a pinch, then it’ll be over soon.

He touches your neck as a test, running the back of his knuckles over the soft flesh. He wants to see if you are okay in small steps. He could feel the spike in your heart rate when he touched you. His instincts enjoy that reaction, his primal half wanted to pounce. He wouldn’t do that though, with you he’d treat you right. He declares as his voice drops a few octaves, “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“I-I trust you.” You nod, and you scoot closer to him proving your point.

A small smirk took over his lips as you lean into him. His eyes soften as he watches you, “I promise to make it quick and painless. I won’t hurt you but tell me to stop if want this to stop.”

You clutch at his shoulders wrinkling his crisp, white shirt and nod, “Okay.”

He cautiously wraps his hand around the small of your back. He brushes away the lingering pieces of your hair from your neck. He watches the pulse under your skin and he could hear the beautiful melody along with it. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, or pass it off as hunger, he wants you and only you. No one else can do this, no one else could touch you like this, or taste you. That is his song.

He tangles his hand into my hair and the other tightens around your waist, his body shakes with your overwhelming warmth. He pulls you closer to feel it against his chest like he wants. Your pheromones are so enticing, it’s fine dining at his clutches. His mouth is watering and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.He ran his tongue over his centers and pricked his tongue on his sharp fangs and leans into your neck. His soft hair tickles your skin as he inches deeper into the crevice of your neck. He flicks his tongue over the shallow dent of your neck and shoulder. He shivers, eyes half-lidded and crimson red your skin taste more delicious than he imagined.

“Yoongi,” you faintly whisper. You could feel your hearing ring in your ears as your vision was blurring. You know what is coming, so you clutch onto him tighter repeating to yourself: It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay. You try fighting it off by focusing on your breathing instead of the ringing, but his breath against your neck was too much to ignore. The fangs, those pearly white fangs that are going to sink into my neck!

He responds with a noncommittal hum waiting for you to say something. He kissed his way up your neck feeling for the strongest pulse and when he found it he licked it, his saliva partially numbing the area temporarily. When you didn’t tell him to stop, he sunk his fangs in to a vein. The next second blood flowed into his mouth in a steady stream. The taste was euphoric answering his primal desires. “Fuck,” he moans to himself. He’s never tasted such a delicacy; no other blood had ever been sweeter or smoother on his tongue.

He hears your whine at the prick and he pulls you closer to him for support. He runs a hand up and down your spine to ease your tension. He sucks blood from the wound tasting the fine sangria wine. He wants to keep tasting, but he knows that would be dangerous for the both of you. He takes his fangs out cleanly, something that came with practice. He twirls his tongue around the wound to clean up the puncture, the enticing red lines running down your neck weren’t going to be wasted. “My mate,” he growls out as he gingerly licks the wound close. He was so lost in his high the words slip past his lips.

When he comes down from his high he quietly ask, “Are you okay?” Affection firmly is anchored in his chest as he cups his palm over the mark. He had not realized that you are clutching at his shirt tightly, but when he fully pulls back your body keeps moving with the momentum. Your eyes roll back and you slump against the couch passed out. “Y/N! Fuck! Y/n!” He was so lost in the euphoric taste he didn’t feel the jump in your pulse or the slumping of your body against his. You are too addicting, too sweet, too delicious. You are the dangerous one.

He wants this to work, he wants you and only you. If it meant he had to help you overcome this fear, he was willing to do it…because you’re his mate. His own words finally hit him as he stares at your paling face, you are his mate.

He turns to the door and screams, “Nurse!”


End file.
